by D K Drake
“I introduced you in a way that would make it advantageous for them to keep you alive,” Javan said. He spoke with confidence rather than fear and made no effort to fight back. Micah considered releasing Javan until Taliya stepped up and slapped Javan’s cheek.
“Why would you tell them about my humminglo fields? That’s where Kisa lives. She loves those flowers. Having them torn up and shipped to another country is going to destroy her home and put her in a seriously bad mood.”
“I told the truth,” Javan said. “Now these people are considering working with us and taking us where we want to go.”
“The truth? What kind of strategy is that? It clearly doesn’t work,” Taliya said. “These people you think are so helpful put us in a pit and took our weapons.”
“Only temporarily,” Javan said. “Once we have a chance to present our case before the council, they’ll see the wisdom in our plan and have no choice but to team up with us.”
“What makes you think I want to go along with this plan of yours?” Micah wanted to tell Javan his plan wouldn’t work. Omri never took advice from anyone. However, Micah didn’t want to admit that his father wouldn’t listen to him. He preferred to let Javan and everyone else think that he had enough sway with his father to change his mind. “I’m sure my father has his reasons for the deal he has in place, and I have no reason to defend the people of Keckrick.”
“They’re people,” Javan said. “Innocent people. You are both in a position to help save them from needless annihilation. Taliya, all you have to do is surrender some flowers; I’ll even help you plant more. And Micah, all you have to do is talk to your dad. We’ll get our dragons back, Omri will get his flowers and the people of Keckrick will get to live. Everybody wins.”
“He does make a lot of sense,” Taliya said.
“Yeah. He does.” Micah studied Javan. Choking him wouldn’t take long and would eliminate Micah’s Collector problem for good.
“Go ahead.” Javan’s wary brown eyes stared right back at Micah. “Kill me. Show these people you are just as ruthless as your father and can’t be trusted. Then see if they ever let you out of this pit alive.”
“Nobody is going to kill anybody.” Taliya grabbed a handful of Micah’s dreadlocks and pulled him away from Javan. “We’re in this mess together and have to pretend like we like each other if we’re going to convince the council to agree to Javan’s plan.”
“Fine.” Micah rubbed his head to soothe his tender scalp. “I’ll let the Collector live and do my part, but I don’t have to pretend to like either one of you while we’re stuck in here.”
“Good,” Javan said. “I had no intention of making small talk anyway.”
“Small talk?” Taliya cocked her head. “What is that?”
“Umm…idle chit chat. Shallow conversation. Talking about nothing just for the sake of talking.”
“Ugh.” She scrunched her nose. “That sounds unpleasant. I’d rather sit here in the dark and not say a word.”
“Now that is a great plan,” Micah said. He sat down, leaned against the cool dirt wall and closed his eyes. Maybe being stuck in this pit wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He hadn’t slept well last night and could use some quiet time to recover from the non-stop action of the past few days.
◊◊◊
Javan dozed on and off throughout the day. He was thankful for the chance to relax, but his rumbling stomach and parched throat began to make the stay in the pit quite uncomfortable.
He also found himself wanting to talk to Taliya. The longer he sat in the dark, the more curious he became about the woman sitting beside him. Who was she? When did she begin been protecting Kisa? How did she end up protecting a dragon here in Keckrick? Why did she shoot him the first time she saw him? Did she have a boyfriend?
No matter how much he wanted answers, he kept his questions to himself. If Micah and Taliya could sit in the confined space without talking, so could he. He might go a touch insane, but he was too stubborn to be the one to break the silence.
Before too much of his sanity had a chance to slip away, a voice from above called down to them. “The council has gathered and is ready to hear from you.” The rope hit the top of Javan’s head, and he used it to climb out of the hole.
His eyes had a chance to adjust to the afternoon sun while Micah and Taliya made their way up the rope. After a much needed bathroom break, six guards led the three guests to a small amphitheater on the other side of the village. Ten rows of grass steps halfway encircled an oval stage.
Seven of the rows remained empty, and the people who filled the first three rows did not match Javan’s expectations of what he thought rain forest tribal people should look like. He expected them to be wearing grass skirts, animal jewelry, and bizarre head gear along with an assortment of piercings in their ears, noses, and belly buttons.
Although they did wear layers of necklaces and had their wrists covered with bracelets, they wore regular, colorful clothes as opposed to grass skirts. Javan wasn’t sure why, but he found that disappointing.
The captain Javan had met that morning stood on the stage beside a tall, thick, round man whose upper body reminded Javan of a tree trunk. He was dressed in a blue and yellow striped shirt, dark pants, and an odd feathered crown atop his square-shaped head.
“Chief Gale and council members,” the captain said, “our guests from the Land of Zandador have arrived.” The guards walked Javan, Micah, and Taliya down to the stage and then spread out along the perimeter of the amphitheater to stand watch.
“Welcome.” The Chief shook each of the trio’s hands and offered them chairs facing the council members. Once they were seated, he continued by addressing the council. “As you all know, the reports from our spies indicate that the north has a greater supply of humminglo plants and is poised for victory if we take no action.”
“I agree. That is why my tribe is ready to attack.” A female council member in the middle of the second row stood. “We are prepared to send warriors to the north to burn their humminglo fields before they have a chance to harvest them.”
“That is foolishness!” A man on the front row stood. “We need their plants to meet King Omri’s overall quota.”
“Doing nothing is foolishness!”
“Chief Lydia. Chief Paraan. Both of you. Sit. Now.” Chief Gale interrupted the argument with such a stern tone that Javan felt the need to lower his head and avert his eyes. He stared at his toes as he listened to the chief address the council.
“We gathered you here today because an opportunity to win the war and save the entire country has presented itself. Our duty as chiefs of the lower eastern tribes is to evaluate the opportunity and choose whether or not to act upon it.” Chief Gale touched Javan’s shoulder. “Stand and tell us what you told Captain Cyr.”
Javan stood, cleared his throat, and prayed he would be able to talk in front of all these strangers without having his voice crack. “Hey. Hello. So…umm…my name is Javan.” His voice wasn’t cracking, but he sure was sounding like an idiot. He needed to say something smart that would get the attention of the council. “I’m a Dragon Collector and flew here on the back of my Noon Stalker Varjiek in search of a Dawn Stalker I heard was hiding in your land.”
“We have no dragons in Keckrick!” The female chief whom Gale called Lydia was back on her feet. “What kind of nonsense have you brought us here to listen to? The only dragons we need to know about are the ones King Omri will send to destroy us if we lose the war.”
“Let’s hear him out,” another woman from the third row said. “If he’s a Dragon Collector, that means he’s fighting against King Omri. But I don’t see any dragon you claim to flown here on. Where is he?”
“Good question.” Javan took a deep breath and worked to calm his trembling hands. “He’s where I left him when I got caught in a wall of white wind and blown here.”
“And where did you leave him?”
“On the northwestern shore.”
&
nbsp; “Tell the council what you saw before the white winds blew you here,” Captain Cyr said.
“Right.” Javan nodded. “Before I was caught in the white winds, I walked among humminglo flowers as high as my head.”
“Head-high humminglo flowers?”
“That’s absurd!”
“Those plants never grow higher than one’s knees.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Taliya joined Javan and squashed the arguments of the random council members. “These flowers exist and have grown unharvested in a secret location in a place called Fralick for fifteen years. I know because they grow in my fields and are nurtured by me.”
“Why have you kept these flowers of yours a secret from your own tribe?” Chief Gale asked Taliya.
“Because I love to watch them grow, and the music they make when you touch them as you walk through the fields is the most soothing noise in the world.”
Javan’s heart melted at the sentiment in her response, and he wished he had never mentioned anything about her flowers.
“Is anybody believing this?” Chief Lydia pointed at Taliya. “She just admitted she is from Upper Keckrick and thus cannot be trusted. I say we hang them all right now.”
“If we hang them,” Chief Gale said over the commotion of the crowd, “we’ll never know where these humminglo fields are.”
“They don’t exist!” The rabble-rousing woman stepped between the men in front of her and joined Gale on the stage. “It’s a ruse to distract us.”
“This is no ruse,” Javan said. “These flowers are real, and Taliya is willing to take you to them.”
“She is from Upper Keckrick and wants to give her flowers to us?” Chief Lydia sounded dubious. “That makes her either a spy or a traitor!”
“She is neither,” Javan said. “All she wants is to get back home, and I want to get back to my dragon, which is near her home. In order to do that, we need a ride on your boat. In order to convince you to give us that ride, we are willing to pay you with huge humminglo flowers.”
“That would mean her people in Upper Keckrick would lose the war,” Chief Lydia said, “and she would die in the ensuing annihilation.”
“What if there is no annihilation?” Javan pointed to Micah. “That’s where this guy comes in. Meet Micah. He is King Omri’s son.”
◊◊◊
Micah loved the sudden silence that descended upon the crowd at the mention of his name. He slowly stood and took control of the conversation.
“If you are able to get me and these valuable humminglo plants through the portal, I will speak to my father, King Omri.” Mertzer would also be a part of that equation, but they didn’t need to know about his dragon just yet. He wanted them to understand how powerful he was on his own and how important it was to their well-being to do as he said. “I will tell him how well you served me during my visit here as well as the extra effort you demonstrated to get him the head-high humminglos. I am certain he will then honor my request to spare the people of Keckrick.”
“Even if you are Omri’s son, the plan is too risky,” a bald man on the front row said. “We need our boat here on the river to take our humminglo supply to the portal. We cannot risk sending it through the Dark Zone to get to flowers we aren’t sure exist or expect King Omri to change his mind even if they do.”
Micah felt his cheeks burn with anger. “Do you dare question my identity and ability to sway my father?”
“Yes, it’s risky,” Javan said, stepping between Micah and the bald man. “But what’s the alternative? Meet your quota and lose the war anyway?”
“He is right,” Chief Gale said. “We must take this risk if we want to survive.”
Hearing Chief Gale support the plan calmed Micah. So did the bold words of Captain Cyr.
“I am certain I can get our boat safely through the Dark Zone and back to the portal in time for Transport Day.”
“Chief Lydia will join you.” Chief Gale put his hands on the woman beside him. “You were prepared to send warriors to Upper Keckrick. Now you can. Instead of burning fields, though, you can have your people harvest fields our enemy knows nothing about in their own territory.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I will lead this trip. But if we get to the northwestern shore and there are no head-high humminglo flowers, I will personally execute these three spies and send my warriors to steal as many humminglo flowers we can find in Upper Keckrick.”
“If there is a journey,” the bald man said. “Such an undertaking requires a unanimous vote by the council.”
“So vote,” Micah said through his clenched jaw. His anger was on the rise again after the Lydia woman threatened to execute him.
“Yes. Let us vote,” Chief Gale said. “Chiefs of the Lower Eastern Tribes, if you agree to send our main transport boat to the northwestern shore to harvest the head-high humminglos and in turn commit to summoning the use of every smaller boat and canoe and raft from your tribes to get our humminglos to Tulkar by Transport Day, stand.”
One by one, the chiefs on the grass steps rose to their feet. Everyone except for the bald man on the front row.
Micah was about to shove Javan out of the way and pull the defiant man into a standing position when Javan spoke to the man. “What would it take to convince you to stand?”
“Nothing.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “We need our boat here carrying the flowers King Omri has demanded we provide. I have been alive too long to believe he would ever change his mind, and getting our humminglo supply to him is our best chance of winning the war.”
“Then just make sure I get to my dragon,” Javan said. “If our plan fails and Micah cannot change his father’s mind, my dragon and I will fight to defend the people of Keckrick.”
Why would Javan want to defend these people? He didn’t even know them! Plus Javan was no match for his father’s dragons. That didn’t seem to matter to the bald man, though. After thinking over Javan’s vow, the man finally nodded and stood.
“It is decided,” Chief Gale said. “Captain Cyr and Chief Lydia will gather a band of warriors and leave at dawn to travel with our guests through the Dark Zone to the northwestern shore of Keckrick.”
The Chief then turned to Javan. “Now come, Dragon Collector. You and your friends will be my guests tonight. You have given us cause for celebration, and we must feast!”
Chapter 25
Javan’s New Trick
As the crowd of chiefs dispersed, Micah tried to make sense of what just happened. Javan convinced the entire council to agree to his plan by telling the truth and giving them hope. How was that possible? Omri had taught Micah the only way to get his way was to use deceit and fear, but Javan’s method seemed just as effective. Maybe more so.
Still, Micah wasn’t about to surrender his lifelong beliefs. He would stick to the method that had always worked for him and began delivering orders to Captain Cyr. “I want my sword returned to me immediately. I also demand a hot bath. I feel filthy after sitting in that dirt hole all day.”
“I am sorry you had to spend the day in the pit,” Captain Cyr said, “but it was a necessary precaution. If you follow me, I will take you to the guest house where I am sure you will find the accommodations much more hospitable.”
“It better be a cool house with a soft bed and guards outside the door to ensure no one bothers me while I rest.”
“He’s not your servant, Micah,” Javan said. “Stop demanding things and treat him with a little respect.”
“Respect?” Micah grit his teeth and glared at Javan. “He had me thrown in a pit and now wants me to plead with my father to let him live. I can demand whatever I want.”
“A bath does sound nice,” Taliya said, breaking the tension.
“Of course,” Cyr said. “You should have ample time to soak in the hot springs while dinner is prepared. In the meantime, I will have your weapons and a change of clothes delivered to the house.”
Micah smirked at Javan and followed Cyr and
two of his men through the village at dusk to a large pool surrounded by colorful flowers and bamboo reeds. “The water is hot, so you won’t want to soak for long. When you are finished, my men will lead you to the guest house.”
“I’m not into the whole communal bath thing,” Javan said. “I’ll just go back with the Captain and take my turn when you’re done.”
“Me, too,” Taliya said. “I prefer to bathe alone.”
“Suit yourselves,” Micah said. He waited for them to leave, stripped off his sweaty, dirty clothes and eased himself down onto the carved out stone bench in the steaming pool.
He slowly leaned his back against the warm rocks that lined the walls of the hot springs. Every inch of his body from his neck to his toes was immersed in the gloriously hot water that cleansed his skin and soothed his muscles. For the first time since the dragon-hunting journey began, Micah felt well-rested and well-pampered.
He just wished he still had his dragon with him. Life felt strange without Mertzer around. Although he wanted to get back to Taliya’s house and recover Mertzer, he wasn’t in any hurry to leave this place.
Until the feeling of being pampered ended at dinner.
He expected to walk into a magnificent banquet hall in the huge home of the Chief, to sit as the guest of honor at the head of a long rectangular table filled with the most important people in the village and to be brought plate after plate of food by servants as festive music played in the background.
Instead he walked into a dimly lit hut that was barely big enough to house a dragon. He was forced to sit between Javan and Taliya at a small round table across from the Chief and his wife Esara.
No one else from the village joined them for dinner. No music played while they ate. No servants filled their cups with wine or put platefuls of food at each place. Micah thus had to fill his own cup with water from a pitcher and transfer food from the main dishes in the center of the table to his own plate and bowl.
